


No Holds Barred

by sarcastic_fina



Series: The Multiships of One Chloe Sullivan [39]
Category: Smallville, X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:24:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were just two immortals looking for companionship and they found it in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Holds Barred

They had the kind of relationship that was originally bred from necessity. When they first met, they had two things in common – seeming immortality and a healing ability; which meant they’d never have to see each other die and they wouldn’t have to hold back. So it wasn’t so surprising that they screwed the hell out of each other the very first night. He was always pushing the limits, wanting to see how far he could go; it was like he had to prove to himself that he couldn’t and  _wouldn’t_ hurt her. When Chloe laid down in bed with Logan, Wolverine eventually surfaced and he wasn’t nice or gentle or loving. He wanted one thing and it was between her legs; he wasn’t selfish, however, he made sure she was well taken care of. Quite obviously, their relationship started more out of sex and companionship. She was a woman who had the ability to take whatever he could give and he was a man she never had to fear losing.

However, sex eventually led to feelings that neither really expected.

Logan was a brash man; he was more masculine than most men would  _want_ to be. His muscles had muscles and the animal inside him cared little for boundaries, respect or being polite. But the man he hid behind the gruff exterior was kind and loving and would do anything for just about anybody if they truly needed it. So while others saw the beauty and the beast, she saw different. Yes, there was an animalistic side to him that begged to get out and howl its superiority, but there was also the human that wanted anything resembling normality and roots, answers and honesty, love and family.

When they met, she was a retired Justice League member; she’d seen her friends and family live their lives and eventually move on. With families of their own and apprentices to take their heroic places, they’d lived out their lives while Chloe was left behind. She was on the road searching for the answers to life’s endless questions when she ran into a brutal looking man with a stub of a cigar between his lips and an axe to grind with anybody who cared to get in the way. While he nursed bloody knuckles after a cage fight, she sipped a beer.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Mutton Chops, or are you always this pleasant?” she quipped in greeting.

He glanced over, lifted a coarse dark brow in her direction. “This is about as nice as I get,” he growled back, grabbing a beer and cracking it open before downing half.

She pursed her lips. “Lovely… and here I thought I’d entered hick central where marrying your cousin is a thumbs up in every book.”

He snorted, lips curving in a smile. Watching her from the corner of his eyes, he looked her up and down. “City girl?”

“No, I wandered into a Gap and they sucked me in before spitting me out here.” She rolled her eyes. “Metropolis.”

He gave a short nod.

When he didn’t add anything more, she asked, “You live here or…?’

“Or,” he replied with a shrug.

“Not talkative, huh? I can take a hint.” Lifting her hands in surrender, she turned back to stare down at her beer in bored resignation.

With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, he turned in his stool to look at her. “Any good reason you’re hanging around this dump?”

She smiled rather sadly. “The Hilton was full?”

He simply blinked.

“Road trip… Headline reads ‘Chloe Sullivan, out to find herself…’ Too bad she took a few wrong turns…”

He laughed low in his throat and for some reason that sent a shiver down her back and a tightness gripped her lower belly.

“Where’d you get lost?”

She blinked, cocking her head to one side. “Literally or proverbially?”

He lifted a brow. “What d’you think, Blondie?”

Licking her lips, she shrugged. “Literally… I don’t think I’m really lost, I just felt like getting off the road and stopping for a break… Left alone in a car lead to too much thinking,” she mused. “Proverbially… about four decades ago.”

Now he just looked confused. “You shittin’ me?”

It would’ve been smart to say yes, to keep her secret of immortality to herself, but hey, it’s not like he could  _really_ hurt her even if he wasn’t a good guy. “No.”

He stared at her through thinned eyes, looking her up and down as if to find where her age was hidden. “You gotta be 28, no more than…”

“Try sixty-five, Hot Shot,” she muttered with a snort.

He frowned. “Grandma’s got some good skin cream.”

She laughed thickly, shaking her head. “No… just meteor rocks and bad luck.”

His brow said ‘Huh?’

“Stopped aging at around twenty-six… Can’t be killed; hurt, somewhat, but my ability kicks in so fast these days I hardly feel it.” She shrugged as if explaining the weather. And why the hell was she sharing this with him anyway?

“That right…” He nodded. And then all of a sudden, claws appeared from between his knuckles, breaking through skin and spreading deep, dark blood. They retracted just as quickly, not even allowing her enough time to flinch. And before her eyes, his skin literally  _knit_ back together, healed.

Without thinking, she reached out, touched his hands softly, gently searching for any sign of injury. He let her, but watched her for any hint of fear.

“Huh… Been near Smallville lately or is this a mutant trait?”

He snorted. “Mutant.”

She nodded, suddenly realizing he might not want to be touched. But when she moved to draw back, he held her hand. She didn’t move or flinch, instead waiting. And without preamble, he slid a claw out to slice open the palm of her hand, testing her honesty. She didn’t watch as her regenerative abilities kicked in; instead she took in every inch of his face as he gazed at the glow that healed her. There was a small twitch of his lips and then he was staring at her. “You wanna get outta here?”

The old her might’ve been offended, but the current her just saw understanding and connection. So she dropped a fiver on the bar and stood up, looping her purse over her shoulder before following him out of the bar. The motel he took her to was no Hilton, but she could care less. He literally tore her clothes from her, slicing through them with his silver claws; ‘adamantium,’ he explained briefly when she stared wonderingly at them. And stripped bare, she was laid out beneath him across the bed, open and privy to his rough hands that squeezed and stroked and reached everywhere. He was all raw muscle and coarse whiskers, his mutton chips dragging along her neck and her breasts and scraping her thighs as he tongued her heat. Fingers buried in his dark hair, she could care less that she didn’t know who he really was or where she was going. She was just a woman who needed intimacy and he was giving it to her tenfold.

That one night should’ve been the end of it; they should’ve gone their separate ways and looked back on it with appreciation over a connection once upon a time. Instead, he asked her where she was going and she said she didn’t know. The next thing she knew, she was following him to his next fight and after a few months, they traded her car in for cash. She was then on a road trip that involved not the most attractive sights of North America, but instead the dirtiest of bars and the best of cage fighting. They were just two people looking for solace and comradery and they found it.

After years of living that life, they saved up, put their money together, and bought a beat-up ranch down by a secluded lake. There was a moment where she wondered how she got here but then she looked at him, at Logan, the gruff man whose hands were always there to soothe her, to hold her, to be her rock. They set up home in a house that needed a whole lot of TLC and while she worked on the inside, he repaired the out, his current job being the roof. At night, when there were pots lining the floors, catching stray rain that leaked through, she laid wrapped in his naked body, playing with his hands absently. Her fingers stroked between his knuckles as if trying to soothe away the pain of previous times his claws had come through sharply.

Nightmares often had them out and gleaming, tearing at anything nearby; he didn’t push her away though, instead cradling her close and apologizing for scaring her. She wasn’t even startled anymore; she’d learned how to draw him back to reality. She’d stand, push his claws away from her, caring not that they sliced her hands every time. And naked, she’d press against him, her soft, warm body slowly pushing the past away and returning him to their present. And he’d cradle her, lift her up in his arms until her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Claws retracted, he’d lay her out on the bed and kiss her from head to toe, his lips as soft as his whiskers were coarse. And thrumming from the affection he showed her, she’d curl into his embrace and soothe him back to sleep, running her fingers through his hair and stroking his tensed shoulders.

While he hammered at the roof, a bag of nails to his left and shingles to his right, she walked outside and stretched her back, narrowing her eyes as the sun thought to blind her.

“You ready for lunch yet, He-Man?” she teased, grinning.

He sighed. “Gimme ten minutes.”

She rolled her eyes. “You said that an hour ago!”

“I’m almost done.”

She laughed. “You said  _that_ yesterday.”

Frowning at her, he shook his head.

“Get down here or I’m feeding your lunch to the animals in the woods!”

“Not like I’ll starve,” he muttered.

“I heard that!”

With a heavy sigh, he crossed the roof and came down the rickety ladder. “If I eat, are you gonna quit complainin’?”

She grinned. “About you  _eating_ , yes.”

He rolled his eyes, but wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders and directed them inside.

A pot of canned stew had been served between them and a few buttered buns lined his side of their small, homemade table. He’d built it himself out of stray wood, carving and sanding it down before dragging it inside for her. “Beats going into town and furniture shopping,” he’d explained and she’d only kissed his whiskered cheek appreciatively.

While he dug in with vigor, ignoring the napkin she continued to put on his side, she ate slowly, relishing their food and adding little bits of conversation here or there.

“I think the Jamison’s son’s been sneaking around by the barn again,” she told him. “He likes to rattle the horses with his slingshot.” Frowning, she rolled her eyes. “He keeps it up I’m gonna talk his mom into making him clean up the stables.”

Logan grunted.

“Mm, we’re almost out of firewood…” she mused. “I can’t find the axe anywhere though.”

He frowned. “I don’t want you cutting wood,” he muttered.

“Yeah, ‘cause I might lose a finger and re-grow it,” she sighed, unconcerned. “Poor me.”

“Doesn’t matter if it grows back. You don’t need any more pain that you have already,” he argued.

She smiled. Her ogre had some serious layers. “Thank you, Prince Charming. But you’ve got your hands full with the roof and I don’t want to suffer hypothermia… Much more uncomfortable than re-growing fingers.”

Glaring at her, he shook his head. “Then  _I_ ’ll keep you warm until the roof’s done.”

Pursing her lips to keep from laughing, she sighed. “Logan,  _seriously_ …”

“I’m bein’ serious,” he grunted stubbornly.

“Seriously ridiculous,” she countered.

He muttered under his breath about stubborn women and continued eating his lunch.

Eventually, she found the axe, and in her irritation to prove him wrong managed to cut open her hand.

“ _Sonuva!_ ” she cried, tossing the axe away and hugging her hand to her chest. It would only take a minute or two to heal but the sting hurt like a mother. Logan heard her; super senses and all. He jumped straight from the roof and was at her side in a flash. With a growl, he dragged her hand down and saw the blood. He glared at her like she’d done it on purpose before wrapping it in his shirt and drawing her close.

“It’ll only take a minute,” she argued even as she chewed her lip at the pain.

“Still hurts,” he grunted darkly.

She couldn’t really say it didn’t. Her shoulders shook and tears collected in her eyes. The cut was deep and the blood fled her hand to darken his shirt to a gruesome red. He rubbed her back with a heavy but soothing hand, his chin on the top of her head as he hugged her against him. The glow emanated through his shirt and she could feel as the ache faded and her hand was good as new. With a sigh, her shoulders slumped in relief.

Short lived, as it was.

“What’d I  _tell_ you?” he growled, stepping back from her.

“I don’t  _know!_  I was too busy ignoring the fact that you were treating me like a misbehaving  _child!_ ” she snarled back before turning on her heel to march toward the axe.

He caught her in two long strides, whirling her around so they were face to face.

His eyes stared searchingly into hers. “You might live forever and you might heal quick but ‘cha ain’t able to avoid  _pain!_ ”

“I never said it didn’t hurt, but I won’t be useless when there are things I can do.”

“Why won’t you just lemme take care of ya?” he shouted.

Hands on her hips, she didn’t back down. “Because this is a partnership; we’re equal here whether you want to admit it or not. So either hand over some of the control or I’ll  _push_ you out of the way.”

He sighed heavily, his nostrils flaring. “You bruise and bleed just like everybody else, Blondie. The last thing I need is for those powers of yours to kick it when you’re acting this pigheaded.”

“ _Me?_ Pigheaded!” Her eyes widened sharply. “Logan, we’ve been together eight years and before that I had  _forty_ to test these powers to their limits. They’re not  _going_ anywhere and neither am  _I!_ ”

“Yeah, and how the hell do I know that for sure? Huh?” he yelled back. “One of these days you might die and not come back. Don’t you  _get_ that?”

Jaw flexing, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Of course I do. Just like I know that one of these days, you might actually get old and  _croak_. Everything is a mystery; we never know what the next corner has for us. But there’s no point running from the unknown. We either face it, accept it and live, or we  _don’t_ …” And don’t meant that she would have to leave, because she couldn’t stay here, living this life with him, acting like a China doll that she very much  _wasn’t_.

With a growl, he turned on his heel and stalked away, and following suit she turned in the opposite direction, making her way back to the firewood. As mad as she was, she didn’t get anything more than a couple slivers, and they were stocked up for the next week or two.

She cooked through her frustration; making them dinner and avoiding him at all costs. He had thinking to do and she couldn’t get in the way of that. Over the eight years they’d been together, she’d been there through his broken bones and bloody fists, washing away other peoples sweat and blood while he himself only shook it off and healed in a matter of seconds. They lived in a beat-up camper that had seen better days, pulling off the road and into empty lots to sleep cuddled beneath a two-man sleeping bag that hardly covered the both of them. And when they had enough, they settled down in what they dubbed home. It wasn’t paradise, but it was  _theirs_. When their two-person road trip became a relationship, she couldn’t really say. They’d slept together often and watched each other’s backs at all times, and before either of them had really noticed they were  _together_ , in every sense of the word.

Chloe had come to accept that her life was not that of grandeur and heroism; she had lived that part of it out. The men and women she’d known, the League she’d built with Oliver, was no more. There were new people and new faces and she didn’t belong there any longer. Meeting Logan had been the beginning of another path and she liked where it brought her. He wasn’t what most would call the proverbial Prince Charming but he was  _hers_  and she loved him. She loved how stubborn and strong he could be; how he would fight with her over just about anything if he thought he was right. She loved the man behind the mutton chops and the beast inside the man. She loved the nights he made love to her for hours, making her toes curl and her body thrum. And she loved the nights when he fucked her so hard she felt him imprinted on her insides; her thighs shaking and her hands clawing desperately for stability. She loved when he growled and grunted and when he cocked that stupid brow of his at her. And yes, she even loved it when he held her after she was hurt, like he wanted nothing more than to take that pain from her. Because sometimes she was just a woman, a human, and despite the fact that it would heal, it really hurt!

But she also knew that he loved her. He loved that she was strong and smart and that she wouldn’t back down for anything either. He loved that she gave as good as she got and that she didn’t flinch in the heat of his anger. He loved that she was passionate and cunning and that she’d always have his back in any situation. So yeah, he could be mad that she didn’t cower to his demands, but he loved her for it all the same. That was why she knew when he came inside he’d make up for taking his fear out on her and they would be okay.

When he came in as the sun fell behind the mountains, he was sweaty and brooding. His heavy boots clomped on the floor and his mouth was set in a dark frown. He walked to the sink to wash his hands and his face of the grime that coated them. Pulling his chair back, he took a seat at the table and watched her as she moved to and fro, gathering their dinner and preparing a salad even though she knew he hated anything that wasn’t meat and potatoes. When she sat down, she said nothing, and she knew it was pissing him off.

He dug into his steak with a brisk knife, carving it open with a jerk of his large hands and popping it into his mouth to chew as he stared at her.

He didn’t close his mouth ‘cause he knew it annoyed her and she didn’t tell him to because she knew that’s what he wanted.

He sighed; over and over again, trying without having to say it to push her into asking him what was wrong.

Finally, he threw his fork and knife down on the table, hands curled into fists.

When she looked up calmly, she saw a tick in his jaw.

“’m sorry,” he muttered through a scowl.

She lifted a brow as if she hadn’t heard him.

His face reddened. “I’m sorry… for earlier… I just…” He growled under his breath. “Don’t like seein’ you hurt.” He looked away, glaring at the floor.

With a sigh, all of her previous anger vanished. “I know… And I don’t do it to  _get_ hurt… But I can do things. I can chop wood and hammer nails and all that guy stuff that you think is too dangerous.” She smiled at him, green eyes glinting with warmth. “I’m not going to keel over from a cut, Logan… You have to trust that I’ll do whatever I can to be here, with you, for as long as humanly possible.”

He stared, eyes darkening. “It ain’t easy.”

She licked her lips. “Nothing is.” Reaching out, she covered his hand. “We’ve had eight good but rocky years… We’ve got a home, one that needs  _a lot_ of work… And I plan on being here for every minute of it. But I’d  _really_ prefer if what could be months of us working on our home didn’t turn into  _years_ of you doing everything while I sit around looking pretty.” She smirked, lifting a brow. “Okay?”

He sighed but nodded anyway. “Yeah,” he grunted.

“Good.” Sliding her hand away, she picked up her fork. “How’s your dinner?”

He poked his salad. “Green and leafy,” he drawled, sneering.

She snorted. “It won’t kill you.”

“There’s no proof o’ that.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “No salad, no dessert.”

He cocked an interested brow. “And what’s for dessert?”

She smirked. “What d’you think?”

He grinned and ate his salad… well,  _most_ of it anyway.

With them made up and their dinner out of the way, dessert involved him picking her up roughly and bringing her to bed. If there was one place he didn’t worry about her safety, it was here. He never feared what he would do to her; what his claws or his animal side might accomplish. Here it was Logan and Chloe, two people who had no boundaries and no worries. He’d explored and pushed and seen the very limits of what could be accomplished with the two of them alone, naked, and raring for any- and everything.

She’d lost many a good outfit to those claws of his.

Tonight, the claws stayed in. He unbuttoned every last clasp on her top, dragging it off her shoulders and tossing it carelessly behind him. She laughed as he grinned down at her lack of bra. Reaching forward, he cupped her breasts, full rough hands massaging them, coaxing her nipples into reaction. Ducking down, he suckled her breast into his mouth, his whiskers dragging against soft skin. She arched into his hot mouth, feeding her hands into his hair and tugging. He pressed her back, his heavy body holding her down against the bed. He was all hard muscle and unforgiving masculinity; rippling beneath his wife-beater and jeans. Already rock hard, he pressed his denim-clad erection against her belly, grinding it against her.

She whimpered, eyes fluttering. He nipped her breast in reply, dragging his tongue along her nipple.

He worked her out of her pants and panties, parting her legs roughly and dragging them around his waist. Rubbing the bulge of his cock against her wet and naked heat, he lifted away from her to pull his shirt off before leaning back down, the heat of his bare chest against hers as he kissed her. Where his body was hard, his lips weren’t. If ever there was a time she wondered about his feelings, he need only to kiss her to prove his affection.

She reached between them, tugging his belt buckle loose and undoing his jeans with deft fingers. Using her feet, she pushed the denim down his legs and away. Hard and unrelenting, his cock lay heavy at the apex of her thighs. She gasped just for the feel of it, the weight of it against her folds. But he wasn’t done with her yet; instead he dragged his mouth from hers and trailed it down her body, pausing to drag his whiskered chin along each of her breasts, smirking as she cried out, her nipples tightening almost painfully. Hands parting her thighs, he buried his face at her heat, inhaling deeply. There was a flash in his eyes, dark feral arousal, and then Wolverine came to the forefront with a vengeance. His long tongue dragged along her folds with precision, teasing her sensitive flesh until she was clutching the sheets and panting. He suckled her every inch, his teeth pressing and grazing along pressure points. Tonguing her clit alone, he brought her to a blinding orgasm before feasting on her further, sliding his tongue and fingers deep inside her and massaging her G-spot gloriously. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him forward and pushing him away when it seemed too much.

He lapped at her as she crested her fourth climax, her body like a limp noodle while she stared at him pleadingly. Finally, he climbed up her, heavy limbs pressing against hers. Gathering her up into his arms, he held her in his lap, their foreheads pressed together as he lowered her into his hard lap. Her thighs shook as his thick length was buried deep inside her. She gasped and he kissed her; his mouth soft, gentle, loving. His arms were tight around her waist, lifting her up and down, rocking her as he thrust up inside her. He was unrelenting and she loved every second of it. One of his hands found the nape of her neck, fingers curling in her hair and gripping tight. She felt the pinch of her scalp but it only heightened her arousal.

She could feel every inch of his impressive cock as it was fed inside her; as it filled her every tight inch. Her toes curled, her chest ached for lack of air, and her breasts tingled with the very intimacy of it. Logan was never shy, never hesitant, he did whatever he wanted. His free hand slid to cup her bottom as he penetrated her; squeezing and dragging the rough pads of his finger along the sensitive flesh of her cheeks. The soft, tingling sensation sent her inner-walls fluttering and he thrust hard against her, grinning ferociously as she came hard, crying out against his mouth.

Changing positions, he rolled her onto her stomach and spread her thighs, kneeling behind her. Elbows dug into the bed, she held herself up as the waves of ecstasy still shook her. His front pressed against her back, rough hands cupping her and squeezing her breasts as he thrust inside of her. She could see the flickering of the fire not far from them; the heat of it hardly registering compared to that of him. His hands slid up her sides and down her back, kneading and massaging her. Her thighs shook and for a moment, she felt like crying. Never, in all her life, had anyone loved her like he did. As hard as he could be, the soft side of him was always there, hidden though it was.

What could’ve been minutes felt like hours; she lay beneath him, spread and willing, climaxing hard all around him, half-delirious with pleasure. And finally, when she could take no more, he cradled her as she lay on her back, their fronts pressed damply together. Stroking her thigh as it lay against his side, he thrust inside her slowly, kissing along her neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping lightly. Nuzzling her cheek, his mutton chop scraping affectionately, he hugged her tight as he finally came, exploding inside her as he growled her name desperately at her ear.

She could hardly move; her arms limp as they wrapped around his back. He buried his face in her neck, laid panting and immobile, content to stay inside her a few more minutes.

“I love you,” she murmured on a sigh.

He nipped her shoulder and she knew what it meant, what it always meant.  _You too, Blondie._

In this life they lived, where anything could happen, in a world where nothing was impossible but them finding each other was a gift of fate, there was really only one rule.

No holds barred. They lived, they loved, they fought, they made up. There was no holding back, no keeping any part of themselves secret. It was Logan, the Wolverine, and Chloe. For as long as their lives would last.  
  
[ **End.** ]


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